Within the silent clash of blades,
shy scarlet globes within green stems
hide with their heads bowed
if you know where they live.
In the thatch of another world,
snallygaster crane flies become
fairies within the grass forest
we part to share the light
of twenty-one springs together
in these hills with generations
of cattle, with all the wild gods
and goddesses as our witnesses.
drycrikjournal 
Beautiful! Makes me think of William Blake’s ‘Auguries of Innocence’ . . .
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Thanks, Peter. I haven’t read any Blake for quite awhile. I see the similarities.
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Those were John’s (EJ’s) favorite flower! The old-timers called them “Wine Cups”. I’ve always called them Satin Bells. Thanks, John.
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my new favorite! Thank you
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Good choice!
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I went immediately to the dictionary for “snallygaster”. What a great word and perfect for the line. Happy anniversary.
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Thanks, Susanne, we’ve gotten a lot accomplished. Around here we’ve been calling crane flies ‘snallygasters’ for years, aka mosquito hawks that don’t really eat mosquitoes. Little did I know the rich history of the word until I Googled it, then tried to make it fit the poem. I learn something everyday. We both did!
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Yes, you got me with ‘snallygaster’ too. Love it!
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